Fire on Ice
by OrchidQueen
Summary: During dinner at one of their usual restaurants, Victor notices that Yuri is distracted and distant. What could possibly be on his mind? / One shot, a little thing I wrote after my 100000th rewatch of this perfect show.


"The food tastes even better than the last time we were here." Victor said around a mouthful of shrimp. "The waiter seems nicer than the last one, too. Did you notice the bathrooms are cleaner today? They must have done that just for us don't you think?"

"Uh.. Victor?" Victor's eyes met Yuri's, as they had been doing for most of the evening, even if Yuri had been neglecting to look back. "Could—would you mind slowing down on the alcohol?"

Victor blinked, halfway through the act of pouring himself a second glass of wine. "Of course." He lowered the bottle with a smile, and Yuri gave a sort of half smile back, nodded, then looked back to the same window that he'd been staring out all night.

Victor's smile faltered.

He tried to ignore the uneasiness that had been swirling around inside him like a bad hangover all evening, but Yuri's face… the way he had been so quiet and distant all night… The rest of the day had gone smoothly enough, the two of them laughing and joking as usual. The change in attitude had been gradual, Yuri talking less and less until he had ceased talking at all and instead begun his doleful stare out the window. Victor shoved a heaping mound of noodles into his mouth, dismissing the matter. Yuri was probably tired, Victor reasoned. This was, after all, not the first time they had been out to dinner this week. It may have just been too much of the same thing; maybe Yuri was simply bored of this place.

Yes, Victor decided. Yuri was tired, and he was bored of the food.

Viktor swallowed the thought as he swallowed his food, trying to make light of this like he did everything else.

He rested his elbow on the table, then rested his chin upon his hand. Yuri did look good from this angle. There was something strikingly poetic about the curve of his jaw, the reflection of his face on the glass of the window which was splashed with the tears of the rain streaking from the sky outside.

It took a long moment for Victor to realize Yuri's reflection was staring back. Victor smiled, spreading out his hands in mock surrender. "You've caught me staring," he said, leaning toward Yuri now, playful in the wild hope that Yuri would play along. "I'm not sorry, Moyo Solnyshko." He waggled a single finger in the air. "I can't help myself sometimes, you know this."

Yuri's lips twitched and Victor brightened, sure that he had brought on a smile at last. But the happiness seemed to fall from Yuri's face and he darkened, turning back to the window, leaving Viktor to wonder if he had imagined it after all.

He frowned deeply and he crossed his arms. So much for that, then. He tried the direct approach. "Yuuuri?" In response to his name, Yuri turned his face up to Victor's, looking a bit dazed. His brown eyes were wide and his eyelashes kissed the lenses of his glasses. Victor suppressed the urge to squeal, to grab Yuri's hands and bring them to his lips, and instead maintained his strict demeanor. "What's wrong?"

"Huh?" Yuri pivoted in his seat with an air of urgency, moving his body to face the table instead of the lashing rain outside. "Nothing's wrong, Victor," he promised, shaking his head vehemently. "I'm just…I'm…" Yuri bit his lip, and Victor's eyes instantly followed the movement. "I guess I'm nervous."

This took Victor by surprise. He uncrossed his arms and placed his fingers on the table, leaning forward again. He narrowed his eyes. What on Earth did Yuri have to be nervous about? They had been out like this a hundred times or more, usually to a restaurant or perhaps a cafe. A stroll through the park, shopping together at the mall. Sometimes the dates went slow, sure. Sometimes one of them had had a difficult day, sometimes they were tired or maybe cross, but by the end it was always pleasant, dare he say _fun_. They could always cheer each other up, even at the darkest of times.

Yuri wouldn't meet his eyes now. Motioning to the waiter to bring the check, Victor paid for both meals, although Yuri hadn't eaten much. Strange. Very strange.

The cab ride back to Yuri's home wasn't what Victor had expected either. Most of the time it was tipsy giggles and the odd heated embrace, but tonight it was just heavy silence, interrupted every once in a while by the clicking of the turn signal from the front of the cab, or a honk from passing traffic. Every attempt Victor made at conversation was ignored or deflected, but it wasn't totally clear whether or not Yuri was doing it on purpose.

What was clear, though, was that there was something else weighing heavily on his mind.

Yuri perked up suddenly, yelled to the driver: "Stop the cab!"

To Victor's immense surprise, Yuri opened the door and hopped out onto the street. He looked at Victor. "I need to run inside. I'll be fast. Please wait for me." The words were hurried, clipped, and Yuri had already slammed the door and rushed away before the last of them had even been spoken.

Victor's mouth hung open in a response he would never get to utter. Where on Earth…

He ducked under the window, trying to get a good look at their location. He frowned. The Ice Castle? At this time of night? Victor had half a mind to chase after him, but decided to respect Yuri's wishes and wait for him here.

Victor managed to last about five minutes before hastily paying the cab man and sprinting to the front door of the building.

Inside it was eerily quiet, and completely empty. For a minute or two he could make out nothing but a few dark blobs that must have been furniture, one or two windows through which light could barely leak through. The only sounds were the clacking of Victor's shoes and the dripping of the rainwater from his soaked hair as he wandered through the place, checking the few scattered rooms for Yuri while his eyes slowly adjusted. The last place he checked, the place he probably should have checked first, was the rink itself.

Victor had saved it for last because he was certain Yuri would be there. And even though Victor wanted to know what was going on, what in the world was going through Yuri's head, he admitted to himself as he wrenched the glass door open that he was afraid, and more than a little confused.

His confusion only doubled when he didn't find Yuri there either.

Victor whirled, a bit panicky now. Had Yuri slipped out while Victor was searching for him? Had he left him there, alone in the abandoned dark?

What an odd trick, so unusual for gentle Yuri.

Then the lights turned on, and Victor turned around. Yuri was heading toward him, but he had changed. His glasses were off, his hair slicked back from his forehead, and he was wearing something skin tight—much to the pleasure of Victor's eyes— and meant for the ice. Half of the suit was sparkling black and the other half was pure, stark white. Despite his confusion Victor's eyes widened as he took him in, this beautiful, _flawless_ man. Victor fisted his shirt in his hand directly over his heart, not even wishing to slow the wild, desperate beating because looking at Yuri seemed to warrant its quickening. It seemed absurdly appropriate that Yuri should make his heart beat like this, to the rhythm of his name.

Yuri didn't say anything, but only lifted one foot for victor to take off one blade guard, then the other. Victor complied with the silent request without a word himself, perfectly content to bow at Yuri's feet for a moment.

When he again stood, Yuri was fidgeting with his fingers and staring intently at the floor. Uneasy but donning a small smile for Yuri's sake, Victor held the guards under his arms and rested his hands on Yuri's to stop the movement. His smile grew when Yuri's fingers tightened around his. "It's still rough around the edges," he said, finally meeting Victor's eyes. "But—but I'm sure I'm ready."

A crease formed between Victor's eyebrows. "What's rough?" he asked, confused but endlessly supportive. "Have you choreographed your own routine?"

Yuri said nothing, just closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and released Victor's hands in favor of the ice.

Victor's brows rose. How had Yuri had time to come up with a routine without him noticing? When had he done this?

Yuri turned back to face him when he reached the center of the ice. He paused, eyes still closed, took another steadying breath. When Yuri's eyes finally opened all the nervous energy seemed to have drained from them, the tension was gone from his body, and he smiled. That smile: dazzling, utterly blinding in stunning determination… Victor went limp, and everything he had been holding fell from his arms. This man…

Then Yuri began to move, and Victor's confusion melted away with each shift of his skates on the ice.

After a few moments, Victor's eyes widened and he leaned as far as he could over the wall at the edge of the ice. Yuri hadn't been lying: it _was_ a bit rough around the edges, some of it, and probably hadn't been practiced quite enough. But it had to be, Victor realized with growing excitement, clutching the wall as if it was the one thing that anchored him to the ground. It had to be rough because 'polished' and 'smooth' would have been a lie in the story Yuri was telling.

This story was intense—Victor could feel it in every sharp, sudden spin that catapulted Yuri from the careful grace of his step sequences. He could feel it in each subtle movement of Yuri's arms, sometimes reaching for Victor, sometimes reaching, eager, toward the sky.

Yuri spread his legs into a half-split, locking eyes with Victor before melting into a slow spin. When he rose back up he came straight for Victor—who grinned wickedly at the matching expression on Yuri's face—but feinted at the last second and curved away, back to the center of the ice.

If Victor had ever had any doubt in his mind before about the subject of Yuri's story, it was far gone now. As he watched Yuri twist and slide through the motions of his routine, he could feel it with unwavering certainty: Yuri was skating their Eros.

Amazing.

But then the story changed, and Victor's lips parted in wonder. Yuri's movements were smooth now; the embodiment of grace. And Victor knew with wild, giddy pleasure that this story wasn't just about Eros, but Agape as well. Everything their relationship consisted of was displayed in the exquisite fusion of music and ice and love and life that was his Yuri Katsuki.

Physical love, selfless love; both swirled together with each of Yuri's actions until they were one in the same, indistinguishable from one another, breathtaking to the point where Victor almost felt as if he should sit down. But he didn't, of course he didn't. Instead he smiled fiercely, never taking his eyes off of Yuri. After all, that was his promise, wasn't it?

And it was a promise he never intended to forget.

At last it seemed that the music was slowing, and Yuri along with it. Victor raised his hands to applaud, but a single lilting note echoed through the large room, so Victor lowered his hands. The music began anew: Slow, deliberate; an entirely different atmosphere than what the melody had been doing before but intertwined with love all the same, and Yuri gave Victor the smile of a lifetime before bowing in his direction. And now, every move was unhurried, specifically designed so that the two of them did not have to break eye contact. Not once.

Victor knew now that this dance Yuri had created was more than just a simple story, and now it made sense that Yuri had been so nervous before, so intent on making sure could skate this to the best of his ability. Because this wasn't just about sex, it wasn't just love. It was far more than a surprise routine or an affirmation of his feelings for Victor. What victor was witnessing was Yuri's _soul_ , set bursting free from within to become _art._ To culminate in this dance on the ice, this dance meant for Victor, and Victor alone.

And all at once Victor understood.

Now, strong and steadfast and relentless, Yuri was skating to their future. To the love that would endure even through unforeseen obstacles or adversity. To a love that was not limited to just one thing, but would always be a massive, messy, beautiful combination of two souls, merged by the cold passion of the ice and the fire in their hearts. A love in which they would both boundlessly inspire one another to live.

Yuri ended in a kneeling position, head up to gaze at Victor as if to say _I am yours_. _This is for you_.

Victor was unsurprised at the prickling behind his eyes as he gazed at Yuri, unable to keep the smile from his face. He clapped emphatically while Yuri grinned back, breathing heavy with exertion.

 _Every time you take to the ice, my heart is exposed for the world to see. Because, Yuri, out there on the ice,_

 _you are my heart._

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This story was meant to go in a different direction but then this sort of just happened.

Two things. One, I don't know anything about figure skating except what I learned in this show, so I apologize if any of the terms are incorrect.

Two, I don't speak Russian, but the pet name Victor calls Yuri means 'my sunshine' according to google translate. I debated writing it in English but I like the thought that Victor's pet names for Yuri might be spoken in his native language. If anything is wrong feel free to let me know!

As always, thanks for reading!


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